


Lagom

by Undercovermcdfan



Category: Aphmau (Minecraft) - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Minecraft diaries - Fandom, aphmau - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Flirting, Mutual Pining, Roomates, Sweet Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 17:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11583228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Undercovermcdfan/pseuds/Undercovermcdfan
Summary: he asked. she agreed. Travlyn. MCD s3.





	Lagom

**Author's Note:**

> SO. This is highkey born out of the need to write a fic about travlyn??? And this came to mind! I always always yell about the Guard academy hosting Balls (like to fund the academy? Because there’s no central government, so they must generate money somehow without hindering the alliance’s economy), so what if this fic might be a two-parter; I wanted to write them dancing but gotten side tracked lol.
> 
> Also yes, Travis and Katelyn live together as roommates /eyes emoji I mean the dude been living on a mountain and she could use a roomie lmfao
> 
> anyways, read, review, and leave a kudos!  
> follow me:   
> Twitter: @undercovermdfan  
> Tumblr: undercovermcdfan.tumblr.com

 

**Lagom (n.)** _not too little, not too much. Just right._

* * *

 

 

She bit her tongue, averting her eyes as a laugh wanted to bubble up. But alas, even the futile attempt to save feelings and covering her mouth, Travis caught her smile.

Which was fair, because he _must_ know how ridiculous he look.

“I can _explain_ ,” he cracked out, the sharp pitch being the last thing to break down the dam.

The house filled with her laughter, a laugh she hadn’t in a long time; it took up the space around them, aching and deep, broken by a snort as she tried to rein it in.

Honestly, life taken quite a turn the past month— and _of course_ it would. Travis did, in fact, always had that effect in her life. Whether she admit enjoying this little fact.

Putting aside the broom, his face warmed as he wringed his hands nervously; the home was spotless, as it always was since he taken up in her spare bedroom. She slid off her bag, the heavy _thud_ of books and reports dropping to the ground as she shook her head. “Well, I’d love to hear it,” she said, dragging her feet to the couch and plopping down it rather ungracefully. Sure, she was the headmistress of the Academy and certain amount of grace was expected from her station as well as status of a Lady. _But_ she also was running on so few hours of rest.

Beside Travis was the last person she had to worry about holding her governmental persona in front of.

Especially, _especially,_ while he tried desperately to explain the scene she just witnessed.

And explain he did, flustered and fidgeting, the shame of being caught battled out the embarrassment of being caught on his face, twisting grimace twinkled as he showed too much of his sharpen teeth—a nervous habit that would normally intimidated some other than her. She found the habit rather cute.

In the matte of being truthful, she must say how strange it was, letting the affectionate thoughts flow rather than stopping and berating herself all together. It was a subtle change—she can’t pin when the switch actually happened; all she knew was her weariness of calling herself out whenever words like _sweet_ or _cute_ supplied as adjectives of the things Travis does.

 

“ _Dancing_ ,” she echoed back, “You don’t know how to dance? Hmm… well I’m surprised, I seen you fight.” He squinted at her. She grinned, patting the space beside her and despite his annoyed expression, he took up seat beside her. “Don’t give me that—you fight with strength but even to this day, there’s not much grace to it because your lack of formal training.” _Lowblow._

He clicked his tongue. “How bad were the meetings today?”

“Terrible. That obvious?”

“You’re always overly critical when cranky—hard to miss it.”

She hummed, leaning her head against his shoulder—feeling him tensed up, patted his arm in comfort, a well understood sign of _Shh, don’t question, I’m tired._ Maybe a little affection to it too. “Sorry,” she said, the last of her energy sapped by that laugh, “Juggling between debating scenarios and strategies meetings _on top_ of fussy benefactors who badgering me for a when on the Academy’s yearly Ball—I don’t mean take that out on you. You don’t deserve that.”

“I _don’t_ but you are forgiven, Lady Firefist,” he smirked at her slight wince; after hearing the title lady all but yelled at her today, she rather good on not being called anything besides Katelyn. But she’d let it slide, rolling her eyes. “Actually, funny that you bring up that Ball. Being a source of entertainment in your life, I do request a proper apology.”

“Oh?” She sat up slight, leaning away with furrowed brows. His tone, while playful and even a little… hopeful, she could already foresee where this was going. She pursed her lips, gesturing him to continue.

“I would like to go to this Ball.”

She shrugged, “I was going to invite you soon, naturally. But it’s not for another month—”

“You didn’t let me finish,” he said, leaning back as he kicked up his feet onto the coffee table. She nudged them off with her leg and look of warning, but her expression still open. “I want to go with you. As your date.”

“As my…” she blinked. And blinked again, her cheeks pinkening—well she shouldn’t be so surprised. It was naturally to think he would ask that and even though it _wasn’t_ a sudden shift, the mood felt… different.

“I mean. Unless some frumpity benefactor taken you up, I just… thought it was worth asking?”

“What brought this on, though?”

Now it was his turn to blink in surprise.

She narrowed her eyes. “Did you go through my things?”

“ _No—_ well, not going through, more like you left the letter there and that disaster of an office space need a good dusting. Really unhealthy not to, Katelyn,” he rambled, looking away. “By the way—that Lord Augustine or whatever, he sounds so pretentious. _I would like to do you the honor_ , isn’t _you_ who’s honoring that dude?”

“Travis.”

“I mean, and that handwriting? I give points for sincerity of writing it—that or he should fire whoever writing his letters.”

“ _Travis_.” She touched his arm.

He continued to rant, “And, _Irene_ , who asks for a date through letters? Sounds more of a business arrangement.”

She snorted. _They always are._ But she should stop him before he continued to drag on, she touched him again, cupping his face with beamused smile. “Don’t do that again.”

“I won’t,” he immediately deflated, flustered and sheepishness coming back, “Now I’m sorry.”

“It’s accepted,” she smiled wider, getting up off the couch, “And yes.”

There’s a pause, as she started to walk towards the kitchen—followed by the sound of him nearly tripping over himself. “W-wait, _really._ Just like that? You know, before I saw that damning letter, I actually was thinking of asking you and _properly_ ,” he called out, following after her, “Irene, I said that so lamely.”

“Nonetheless, I said yes. Much rather you than some Lord who want better position on the Alliance or Academy board,” she said, throwing him a smile over the shoulder and a glint in her eye, “Consider me won over by your directness, Sir Valkrum.”

“Sir…”

“Also get use to that,” she opened up the cupboard, “And people nitpicking your every move. The Academy and the village may be use to your presence but we’re talking about almost all the lords within the alliance and their families appearing; one wrong rumor would stick more than any impressive battle victory.”

Another pause. And then a softer “Oh.”

“Oh indeed,” she shut the cupboard, pulling out two tea cups and kettle, “I appreciate you asking me out—ease my journey into social hell.”

“….it can’t be that bad, can it?”

“Travis, you been living on a mountain most of your life—and this whole game been mines since… Irene, I don’t know _how_ long. Only person who would have more experience is Garroth. So this is your chance to back out and save yourself.”

“I…” he shook his head, opening up a cabinet and handing her the baggie containing the dried tea leaves after watching her search after she set the kettle. “Thanks.” “No problem, rearranged the contents again—but, I think… I won’t be scared off. After all,” he smirked, leaning against the wall as she turned to face him, “a night with you is too good to past up.”

“Is that so?” she mused, raising a brow, “Even if it means you taking dancing lessons—don’t give me that look.” She chuckled, “I’m sure you’ll share dancing with not just me—people are always curious about fresh faces, after all. I rather not hear complaints of stepped toes or awkward situations. Not another Liochant incident.”

“I’ll ask about that later.”

“Mm, better another time when he’s here to defend himself.”

They both laughed, she poured the tea into the cups and slide one closer to him. “But I jest, thank you for offering. Now I have something to say rather than procrastinating my choices and making replies.”

“No prob…lem. So… _choices._ How many letters?”

“How many single lords looking for a gain in status?”

He frowned at his cup of tea. It’s funny how jealousy showed and the small urge to tease him even more; taking a sip of much needed comforting warmth, she hummed. “Don’t look glum. I’m rather excited now—never was before.”

Like a switch, another suave grin appeared, ego starting to visibly inflate. She snorted at his “is that so?” and cocked brow, and nodded.

“Hmm… so much to do,” she murmured, but smiling, she could already feel the stress of her day melting away. “Anyways, I didn’t get a chance to ask—how was your day?”


End file.
